I'm yours, you're mine
by Marry-Black-Translations
Summary: Slash, sequel for Cure for Pain. Dick Grayson is grounded for two months to recover from his operation, which gives him lots of time to think... and to remember.


Hiya!

This fic is a follow-up to "Cure for pain", it takes place a month after the first. This is for everyone that felt sorry for Dick at the end of Cure for pain. This is a translation from French, so feel free to comment on style, grammar on anything like that.

Story's mine, translation's mine, everything else is DC's.

Enjoy!

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><p>"Talk to him!"<p>

Barbara asserted just before a little chirping noise told him the young woman was disconnected. Her tone suffered no reply anyways. Dick groaned as he pushed himself back in the black leather chair and pondered his friend's words. Talk to him… yeah, like that'd ever happen.

He'd been "resting" for a month now, meaning that he was grounded at the manor with nothing to do whatsoever. Bruce had ordered that he took the next two months off his "night job" to recover from his head surgery. He perfectly knew that this dictatorial decision was made out of concern for his health and safety, but still.

So he had been back at the manor where he spent most of his life, in the capable hands of Alfred, for four weeks now. The butler wasn't so much taking care of him as keeping an eye on him, but at least he could be around his little brothers, complain, have company, annoy Tim when he worked or infuriate Damian when… well every time he talked to him, actually, and complain some more. He had watched TV series, took acting and cooking lessons from Alfred, tried to help Bab's but got thrown away, and after hours of begging, had been allowed to climb back on a trapeze.

Still, he wasn't allowed to go out, at least not to do something fun, meaning climb on walls and roofs while breaking various kinds of laws, and anyways he was never alone when he went out. He felt like a criminal under house arrest, under surveillance twenty-four hours a day. He'd had a lots of time to be bored, and most of all, lots of time to think.

A couple of days after he checked out from the hospital, he had remembered some things about these few days when he was totally high on morphine. It was all blurry; he remembered only bits and pieces. The doctor that came to check on him a couple of times, visits, pain and noises. But a memory was different from the others. He still didn't know if it was a memory or just a dream, something he wished to be real. It was just after the operation, in the middle of the night. He's seen Bruce, felt his hand in his hand, his lips on his lips. And above all, he remembered something Bruce had said.

_And I… need you. _

Everything was foggy, strange, like a dream, a morphine-fuelled fantasy. The surgeon had told him Bruce had waited at the hospital during the operation and had come and see him just after, but he left them alone, of course, and couldn't confirm anything. Dick had spent the last four weeks turning this memory over in his head, trying to remember all the details, the meaningless little things that could tell him if he was dreaming or hallucinating. He remembered the beeps of the machine he was wired to, the feeling of the IV tugging on his arm when he moved. With an effort he could remember the knot on Bruce's tie, a little lose like he'd tugged on it. He remembered the salty taste of his own tears on Bruce's lips, his rough hands on his palms, but he knew he could very well have invented these memories.

He kneeled back on the chair, hands pressed on his eyes, trying to untangle what was real and what wasn't, what really happened and what he hoped. Bab's had told him, well ordered him really, to talk to him. Yeah right, but how? He didn't even know what really happened. And he did know the grumpy old man would deny everything if he asked him bluntly. He would tell him he didn't wake up, that he was delirious and hallucinating, but he would never admit indulging in this kind of declarations.

Dick cast a look towards the darkness when he heard the characteristic sound of the batmobile coming through the gate. He sighed and left the chair to sit on the desk in front of it as Batman was coming towards him, his cape flapping behind him. He sat in the still warm seat and his eyes met those of the young man sitting in front of him, blocking his view of the screen.

"Nice patrol?"

"Good. Nice day?"

"Like an old man stuck at home and watched over even in the toilets"

Bruce didn't answer, he was used to Dick's complaints. He just kept his eyes locked on him, he was in front of the screen anyways. Dick smiled and put his bare feet on the chair, on each side of the older man's legs, to pull him nearer, and also to keep him from fleeing like he used to do. He kept his dark blue eyes trained on Bruce and knelt towards him, hands on his knees.

"Y'know, I remember some things that happened just after the operation…"

He's said it like it was nothing, like he was talking about the weather, but he definitely saw Bruce's neck stiffen and his jaw clench. Just another confirmation if he needed any.

"It was nice of you to come…"

Bruce grunted something that could either be a confirmation, a denial or just a "don't get on my nerves". He put his hand on Dick's leg and pushed it away to stand up and take off his cape. He then walked away to hang it on a mannequin a few feet away. Dick rolled his eyes with a sigh; this wasn't going to be easy. He stepped off the desk and joined his mentor as Bruce had his utility belt and chest armor off.

The younger man slid against Bruce's back, locking his arms around his bare torso, lips settled on his neck. He stayed like this a moment, just breathing in. Bruce smelled of sweat, Kevlar and gunpowder, Gotham's cold nights. Batman's scent. His scent. Dick closed his eyes and squeezed him hard, relishing his mere presence. A lifetime later he sighed again and raised his lips near Bruce's ear.

"Anyways… I need you. That's for sure."

He planted a chaste kiss on Bruce's neck and let him go, turning to leave him to his silent brooding. He was about to leave the cave for the warmth of the living room when Bruce caught his arm, tugging hard to make him turn and face him. Dick just had time to do so before Bruce's other hand caught his neck, careful not to touch his stitches, and pulled to press his lips on Dick's, hard. His kiss was ferocious and tender at the same time, loving and passionate.

Slightly dazed at first, Dick quickly closed his arms on Bruce's neck, pressing himself against his bare chest, feeling his hot skin and hard muscles under his hands, and closed his eyes like there were no tomorrow. Deep inside, he knew it, everything Bruce never could say to him was in this kiss. All the "I need you", "stay with me", "forgive me"… "I love you".

Dick held him as tight as he could, trying to feel the most of him, savoring every inch of his massive frame against his body. He'd probably never have more of a declaration coming from Bruce, not when he was conscious anyways.

And that was more than enough, he'd better make the most of it now.

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><p>FIN<p>

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><p>All comments are appreciated, and tell me if you spot typos, mistranslation or anything.<p>

Merci d'avoir lu, à la prochaine!


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